


Relief (Cotton:  Lex's Remix)

by M_Scott_Eiland



Category: Smallville
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-15
Updated: 2012-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-03 16:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_Scott_Eiland/pseuds/M_Scott_Eiland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex has no idea why Martha is relieved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relief (Cotton:  Lex's Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Cotton](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3759) by [Vera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera/pseuds/Vera). 



Time Frame: First season Smallville, an unspecified number of weeks after the pilot.

 

 

 

I pull into the drive and smile slightly at the sound of the gravel crunching under the tires. A simple thing, but I've learned not to take little things for granted since the day of the bridge incident.

 

Mrs. Kent is already looking at me by the time I close the car door and start walking in her direction. I slip my sunglasses into a pocket—I want her to see my eyes as we talk. She is standing by the clothesline, a basket of wash sitting at her feet.

 

I smile at her as I approach, and she returns the expression as she calls out, “Lex—what brings you out here?” She steps away from the line—as usual polite and not wanting to ignore a guest—but I interrupt her movement by swooping in and picking up the basket to hold it for her as she works:

 

“Allow me.”

 

She smiles and reaches for the next piece, and I am surprised into a visible reaction when I see the black thong underwear in her hand. I recover quickly, but I know that she has noticed it before she silently clips it onto the line and moves on to the next piece.

 

Mrs. Kent breaks the momentary silence: "I'm afraid Clark isn't at home. He's gone to Bob Johnson's place with Jonathan. Bob's hurt his back and they're helping out today."

 

She's not telling me anything I don't know, of course. I'm not here to see Clark. Jonathan Kent is, for the moment, at best silently hostile to me, and Clark and I are getting along fine. I'm here to make points with Martha Kent, who at least seems willing to give me a fair chance. I'm not going to underestimate her, though. I remember a conversation with my father several months before the incident on the bridge, when the Kents came up apparently randomly in a conversation about the inhabitants of the town—he seemed almost wistful when speaking of Mrs. Kent: “She had a lot of potential before she ran into that blasted farmer—I still expect her to do something out of the ordinary one day. Never underestimate what a bright, motivated woman can accomplish, Lex—and try to avoid getting in the path of one who has a goal in mind unless you're ready to help her or fight hard to thwart her.” I had narrowly avoided a skeptical smirk at the time, but the cool, intelligent eyes studying me at this moment were causing me to realize that if anything my father had soft-pedaled the threat in this case. Still, I was here to fight and not get out of the way—I was just going to be subtle about it.

 

I smiled at Mrs. Kent and replied, "That's a generous gift. Time is a farmer's most precious resource." An honest comment, more or less. It is a rather nice thing to do, even granting that Mr. Kent can expect a return favor from Mr. Johnson if it is needed.

 

She seems to study me closely for a moment, and the verdict seems to be in my favor as she smiles and states quietly, "Bob would do the same for us."

 

 I see an opening and let a little hurt appear on my face as I replied, “So would I, Mrs. Kent--but I know a Luthor's gift isn't welcome here."

 

The gentle riposte causes her to hesitate for a moment, and I can see her visibly considering her words before she meets my gaze and says, “Lex.” She pauses, then continues: "A gift has to mean something the recipient as well as the giver." I smile in mild bemusement at her, and she clarifies: "You can't give someone more than they can take."

 

 I consider her words in silence for a moment as she continues to hang the laundry, and my tone is only mildly contentious as I suggest, "Perhaps Clark can take more than his father realizes?"

 

 She is silent for some time as she continues to reach for more laundry to hang on the line. I move with her, holding the basket as she progresses further. There is a pair of white boxers in her hands when she quietly replies, "That's not Clark's decision to make yet."

 

 A reasonable response from the parental perspective. He's still their son, still a minor under their care. I make the obvious counterargument: "But one day soon it will be."

 

 She looks down at my hands, seeing the fingertips white with pressure that is not strictly necessary to hold the basket in place, and tries to placate me without giving ground: "Yes, Lex. One day it will be. But right now he's just a boy. A good boy and he'll mind his father." She finishes hanging the white boxers, and I glance back along the clothesline, considering what to say next. Her next sentence is somewhat unexpected: “Perhaps you shouldn't let Clark take up so much of your own time, though. You must be very busy."

 

 I smile inwardly—this is an opportunity to make my case more thoroughly: "Clark saved my life. I'll never be too busy for him. He's a remarkable young man, Mrs Kent, the most remarkable I've ever met." I try to force as much sincerity and insistence into my words as I can—I want her to realize that Clark is important to me, nearly as important as I know him to be to them. I am a Luthor—with all of the endless horizons that implies, and I can see Clark by my side as I explore them. If only I can make her see that and want it as much as I do!   
  


She looks at me for a moment, and I am unable to interpret her expression as she hangs the last pair of briefs. I look down the line, then back at her—and I see her looking at the black thong again. She smiles again and says simply: "Thank you for your help, Lex."  
  


I relax a bit—she's clearly in a friendly mood. "You're welcome. We Luthors are capable of being useful."

 

She looks at the thong again, then back at me, and the expression on her face is clear now—it is relief. I am still trying to process that when she walks closer to me and says, "Stay to lunch, Lex."

 I nod in assent, and follow her into the house, glancing back at the thong one more time before following her. _I'll have to remember not to leave my underwear behind the next time Clark suggests a trip over to the local swimming hole—it seems to bother Mrs. Kent._

 

_  
_

**Author's Note:**

> Dialogue is from the original story.


End file.
